Parameters
by Terra7
Summary: [ImpliedLit] Rory said yes. It doesn’t just end there. Oneshot. AU post 7.21


**Title:** Parameters  
**Summary:** [ImpliedLit Rory said yes. It doesn't just end there. Oneshot. AU post 7.21  
**A/N:** Ava, for the beta and the prompt so lovely I had to use it twice.

_And of course having cautiously turned down the flame under your eyes  
There are more shadows around everything_  
**Parameters _by Ani DiFranco _**

_?  
class paranoia  
var $wrongParamsfalse; _

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You're a man of ideas. California suits you in this way, plenty of people with big dreams and the desire to have someone else deal with the details. You fit in. Your everyday life is filled with people who are responsible for those details, for getting things done, and in the time you've spent in their cubicles you've learned a few things:

1. You're not a bad manager. People follow when you take the lead  
2. You're more organized than you thought. It might just be Rory rubbing off on you, but lists seem like a good idea more and more often.  
3. You've seen more code flash by on monitors than you ever wanted to, but you find it strangely comforting because it looks like it probably does something useful.  
4. Mitchum would never believe any of this.

You respect your co-workers in a way you never have at any other job. It's probably because this job wasn't just handed to you, probably because you have to continue to show that you belong here. You actually want to make this one work and the contentment of having a job you're proud of and a fiancée moving to be with you soon, has made you what you are becoming.

She sounds a tiny bit distant when you call her tonight, but apparently she's busy packing up her favourite books for the move so you're not surprised that she's distracted. She stops talking completely at one point. She almost stops breathing and you ask her if everything is ok. You assume it is when you hear the rustle of pages, the creak of a well worn spine. She mutters something quietly and you can picture her fingertips gliding across the pages of whatever book she has just found. The image makes you smile and you wonder which author's words have her so entranced this time.

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_function paranoia($paramsArray)  
reset($this->para);  
$this->wrongParamsfalse;  
while(list($k,$postvars)each($paramsArray))  
if(isarray($postvars))  
while(list($r,$postvals)each($postvars))  
while(list(,$val)each($this->para))  
$wrongstrchr($postvals,$val);  
if(!empty($wrong))  
$this->wrongParamstrue;_

_else  
while(list(,$val)each($this->para))  
$wrongstrchr($postvars,$val);  
if(!empty($wrong))  
$this->wrongParamstrue;_

_reset($this->para);_

_return $this->wrongParams;_

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Technical details are well beyond you, but you find the structure soothing so sometimes you hang out with your programmers just watching them work. That you would give up spontaneity for strict parameters and rigid algorithms is surprising even to you. Rory doesn't believe you when you reveal this fact to her.

You hear the heaviness in her voice when she calls. She plays it off as exhaustion from all of her preparations for the move. The move that has been delayed twice now, both times because of some unavoidable circumstance on her part. You used to think it was postponing the inevitable. You're not quite as positive anymore as you tap your pen against your desk and listen to her awkwardly try to fill the silences.

When she first accepted your proposal, the world lit up before you. The world of possibility and future. The plans you presented to her, laid out at her feet, were as detailed as she ever would have made. At the time you were proud of yourself. Everything was falling into lines, into boxes. Her lack of enthusiasm now just doesn't compute.

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_function checkParanoia()  
echo date("d M Y H:i:s",time())." br Checking paranoia chars... br br ";  
while(list($d,$r)each($this->para))  
echo $d.". b ".$r." /b b ".ord($r)." /b br ";_

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You couldn't really have known that you would be living in your own mini-version of The Grapes of Wrath. That the shining beacon of California and hopes for the future would go tumbling into shadows when your future failed to ever materialize. And of course having cautiously turned down the flame under your eyes, there are more shadows around everything.

Her flight arrives at the airport 20 minutes late and despite your nervousness you tell yourself that delayed is better than never. One look at her somber expression when she pulls back from your embrace and you want to smack yourself for tempting fate by considering 'never' a possibility.

She is here with only a carry-on. She has a hotel booked for tonight and she flies back out East tomorrow. It's not right to end an engagement over the phone. You want to ask her why, to cause a scene here, in the middle of the terminal while the gate agents look on. You want to ask her, but you don't because you see the thin black volume grasped in her hand. She's been holding onto it like a life preserver though it barely looks like it will hold itself together, let alone her. It's the same one she kept on her bedside table for a year. It's his and that's why you refuse to ask or cause a scene. What's left of your pride might be taken if she gives voice to her reasons.

As you turn to leave, you almost reveal your literary revelation to her. That you are living the life of the Joad family and that California is destroying you as slowly as it destroyed them. You leave all mentions of books alone and kiss her cheek silently instead. You can't compete where books are concerned.

Arriving home alone, you grab a beer from the fridge and move to sit on your deck in the sun. Your avocado tree mocks you from the shade.

Mitchum would believe this part.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/  
_function sendBack()  
echo '';_

_Note: The snippets of code used in this piece are owned by their author, Ovidiu EFTIMIE, and were used without permission_


End file.
